Chapter 2 - THE FATHER WHO WASN'T THERE
I read Isabella's message three times.
Each time hurt worse.
Daddy, I'm sorry I'm such a burden.
I called her immediately.
The call ended before it rang.
I tried again.
Same result.
Blocked.
I looked upstairs.
Beatriz was still inside my office.
“She has Isabella's phone,” Rosa whispered.
I turned toward her.
“How do you know?”
“Because she takes it every night.”
“Why?”
“To check whether Isabella has tried to contact you.”
I felt physically sick.
All those weeks in Dubai, I had believed my daughter was busy.
Beatriz told me Isabella had school projects.
Dance lessons.
Sleepovers.
She told me Isabella was becoming more independent.
I had been proud of her.
Now I understood.
Independence had been manufactured isolation.
“Where is Isabella?”
“Her room.”
“Alone?”
Rosa nodded.
I wanted to go upstairs.
Instead, I forced myself to think.
If I confronted Beatriz now, she would deny everything.
She would call it discipline.
Misunderstanding.
Maybe even accuse Rosa.
And if she had forged messages from me, this went beyond cruelty.
This was planned.
“Can you get Isabella out tomorrow?”
Rosa frowned.
“How?”
“Take her somewhere public.”
“The park?”
“Yes.”
“What will you do?”
“Meet my daughter.”
Rosa stared at me.
“But she thinks you're in Dubai.”
“Not after tomorrow.”
The next morning, I waited near a small café beside Parque de la Constitución.
At 10:17, Rosa appeared.
Isabella walked beside her.
My daughter looked smaller than I remembered.
That realization destroyed me.
Three months shouldn't make your child look smaller.
Children grow.
They don't shrink.
But fear had somehow made Isabella shrink.
She wore jeans and a yellow sweater.
Bandages covered both hands.
I stepped from behind the café.
“Bella.”
She stopped.
Her eyes widened.
For half a second, she looked happy.
Then terror replaced it.
“Daddy?”
I opened my arms.
She didn't run toward me.
That hurt more than anything Beatriz could have done.
I walked slowly closer.
“Hi, princess.”
She looked at Rosa.
Then at me.
“You're not supposed to be here.”
“I came home early.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because I was bad?”
I dropped to my knees.
“No.”
She stepped backward.
I froze.
“Isabella.”
“Beatriz said you would come home if I kept causing problems.”
“What problems?”
Her chin trembled.
“Being lazy.”
“You're eight.”
“I know.”
She said it like eight was old enough to deserve punishment.
I held out my hands.
“Can I see yours?”
Slowly, she gave them to me.
The cuts were worse up close.
Some were fresh.
Others were healing.
There were small burns near her fingers.
“What happened here?”
She looked down.
“I dropped a plate.”
“And?”
“She said I had to learn.”
“How?”
Silence.
“Bella.”
“She made me take it out of the dishwasher.”
“What?”
“While it was still hot.”
My jaw tightened.
Rosa turned away.
I swallowed my rage.
“Did Beatriz tell you I wanted that?”
Isabella nodded.
“She showed me.”
“The messages?”
Another nod.
“What did they say?”
“That you wanted me tougher.”
My daughter finally looked into my eyes.
“Daddy, why don't you like me anymore?”
Something inside me broke.
I pulled her against me.
This time she didn't resist.
She collapsed.
Not cried.
Collapsed.
Her little arms wrapped around my neck.
Then the sobs came.
Three months of them.
Maybe longer.
“I love you.”
She shook against me.
“I love you more than anything in this world.”
“But your messages…”
“They weren't mine.”
She went still.
I leaned back.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“I never sent those messages.”
Confusion crossed her face.
“Beatriz showed me.”
“I know.”
“She said…”
“She lied.”
Isabella stared at me.
Then she whispered, “Why?”
That was the question I couldn't answer yet.
“I don't know.”
She looked toward Rosa.
Then back at me.
“Am I going home with you?”
“Yes.”
Her face changed again.
Fear.
“No.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“You can't.”
“Why?”
She leaned close.
“Because she'll hurt Rosa.”
Rosa started crying.
I looked at her.
“What did she threaten?”
Rosa shook her head.
But Isabella answered.
“Her grandson.”
I turned slowly.
Rosa covered her mouth.
“My grandson works for one of your companies,” she said.
“Beatriz said she could have him fired and make sure he never worked in Spain again.”
I stood.
“She can't.”
“She convinced me she could.”
I looked at Isabella.
“Anyone else?”
My daughter hesitated.
That hesitation told me everything.
“Who?”
“Mr. Javier.”
Our gardener.
“What happened to Javier?”
“He tried to stop her.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared.”
My blood went cold.
“Disappeared?”
Rosa stepped forward.
“He was fired.”
“By whom?”
“Beatriz.”
“She doesn't have authority to fire my employees.”
“She used your electronic signature.”
I stared at her.
The forged messages suddenly became part of something larger.
“How much access does she have?”
Rosa whispered, “I don't know.”
But someone did.
Mateo arrived in Marbella that afternoon.
By evening, he had begun examining my corporate accounts.
At 8:12 p.m., he called.
“Daniel.”
“What did you find?”
“You need to sit down.”
“Tell me.”
“Someone accessed your private authorization portal twenty-seven times while you were in Dubai.”
My stomach dropped.
“From where?”
“Your Marbella villa.”
I looked toward the house from my hotel window.
“What did they authorize?”
“Employee terminations.”
“What else?”
“Bank transfers.”
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“How much?”
Mateo paused.
“Almost four million euros.”
I said nothing.
“And Daniel?”
“Yes?”
“That's not the worst part.”
“What is?”
“Three weeks ago, someone submitted documents changing the beneficiary structure of the family trust.”
My voice became quiet.
“Whose trust?”
“Isabella's.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Who is the new beneficiary?”
Mateo didn't answer immediately.
He didn't need to.
I already knew.
“Beatriz?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“Then who?”
Mateo took a breath.
“A company registered in Panama.”
“Who owns it?”
“I'm still tracing it.”
I looked at my daughter's notebook.
“Find out.”
“I will.”
Then Mateo added one final detail.
“The company was created nine years ago.”
I frowned.
“So?”
“Daniel, Beatriz didn't create it.”
“Who did?”
May you like
There was a pause.
“Your brother did.”
